(Temporary series; A Tristan and Dom story book 2)
Love conquers all. But can it survive Christmas?
Dominic and Tristan have been together for almost a year. So everything's got to be plain sailing, right? Not quite. Not if you ask Dominic. Tristan's a bundle of energy and crazy ideas at the best of times. Add in Christmas, and it's a recipe for disaster.
That's not the only issue. There's also Tristan's mysterious absences and secret phone calls to contend with. Dominic might be insecure, but he's not crazy. His boyfriend is definitely up to something, and neither family nor friends seem interested in listening to his concerns. He won't jump to conclusions this time though. He'll talk to Tristan. Only what do you do when you can't get a straight answer out of the man you love?
When Tristan's secrets are revealed, will their first Christmas together also be their last? Or is Dominic about to discover that all his worries have been for nothing?
Only time will tell.
A story containing Christmas snark; a drunk Tristan; snow; and absolutely no mention of spiders—well alright, maybe a few mentions.
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Heat Level: 4
Romantic Content: 5
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Tropes: Office / Workplace Romance
Word Count: 30 000
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Continuous / Same Characters
The familiar strains of my mobile ring tone drew my attention away from the urgent e-mail I was writing. My boss, John Stone, had stressed that it needed sending as soon as possible. Eyes still fixed on the screen and one hand still trying to type, I reached inside the pocket of my suit to answer it on auto-pilot.
The silken tones in my ear, bearing a hint of confusion, were all too recognizable. "How long has there been a Yucca plant in the corner of my office?"READ MORE
Tristan. That would teach me not to bother checking the caller ID first. Mind, ignoring him would only ever have provided a temporary reprieve. Failure to answer the call would have triggered a flurry of text messages, or a personal appearance. Sometimes, it felt like a miracle that either of us got any work done. In moments of severe weakness, I even wondered whether it might have been better to have given in and stayed as his PA. I'd never have admitted those thoughts to him, though—even under the duress of extreme torture.
I loved the man to absolute pieces, but we'd been a couple for six months and I still couldn't say I was any closer to figuring out how his brain worked. I was beginning to doubt I ever would. "It was there when I was forced into being your personal assistant, so that means it was there months ago."
There was a long pause. "‘Forced’ is a strong word, Dom, and also blatantly untrue. Are you sure about the plant?"
I decided to skip the conversation, that having no choice in the matter, not being given prior notice, and being manipulated into staying there a lot longer than I was supposed to, did equate to being forced. It wasn't anything we hadn't already disagreed on hundreds of times already. "Quite sure."
Tristan made a noise as if he was considering something. "Did you put it there?"
I paused to offer a nod as John Stone left his office, cringing at the realization it was my mobile I had pressed to my ear during work hours. Not that I could get fired when it was the CEO of the whole company on the other end of it, but I hated being made to look anything less than professional. I forced my mind back to the apparently crucial conversation that couldn't wait until we'd gotten home. What was it? Right, plants. "Why would I put a plant in your office?"
Tristan groaned as if I'd asked a stupid question. "I don't know. It's like cushions, isn't it? You're a cushion-type person."
I refrained from asking for an explanation as to what he meant by that. Or how plants and cushions were the same thing. We'd have been there all day. "Tristan, what's the problem with the plant, exactly?"
Another long pause. I could picture him in his office. I'd have bet anything that he was stood in the middle of it, staring at the plant with obvious animosity. How he'd failed to notice it before, I had absolutely no idea. It was at least four foot tall and very green.
Finally, he spoke. "It's very leafy."
I pressed ‘send’ on the e-mail, hoping I'd managed to write it without inserting the word plant anywhere. "It's a plant. If it didn't have leaves, it would just be a stick in a pot."
Another considering noise. "Won't it attract…you-know-whats?"
I tried, and failed, to keep the huge smile off my face. So that's what he was stressing about. It also explained why I was the one having the conversation with him, instead of his PA, Matthew. He still refused to confess his fear of spiders to him. I played dumb. "Botanists?"
"No." He made a noise in this throat, clearly intended to demonstrate his disgust. "You know what I'm talking about."
I laughed silently. "You could just say it, you know. The word itself can't grow legs and crawl all over you."
His shudder was audible even over the phone. "You're really mean to me. I have no idea why we got a place together, just so you could be mean to me for more hours of the day."
With a quick glance toward the door to check whether John Stone had closed it, I lowered my voice. "I don't remember you complaining last night when I was sucking your cock."
Tristan gave one of his throaty laughs. The sound never failed to make my cock twitch. "You were too busy to notice."
I fiddled with a pen, wishing that there was a lot less of the day left until I could get Tristan home and have him all to myself. I could always go down to his office, but I'd never managed to quite get past the point of feeling completely and utterly unprofessional. "Hmmm…weird. I remember an awful lot of ‘oh Gods’, and you saying my name over and over again, but I don't remember any complaining. I'll try and listen more carefully next time." I closed my eyes at the moan that came down the line in response. I guessed I wasn't the only one replaying last night's blow job in my head. "I remember hearing that a lot, too."COLLAPSE